


Stories

by meanddoves



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Richard Armitage - Fanthom, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Autumn, Curious Reader, Endless love - Freeform, England (Country), Episode: s06e07 The Great Red Dragon, F/M, Falling In Love, Francis Dolarhyde In Love, Hannibal - Freeform, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I don't know, In a way, Love Confessions, Please Don't Hate Me, Quiet, Quiet Richard Armitage, Rainy Days, Reader-Insert, Retelling of The Hobbit, Richard Armitage Likes Stories, Richard Armitage Needs A Hug, Richard Armitege Is A Freaking Good Storyteller, Romantic Soulmates, Silence, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Kisses, Socially Awkward Richard Armitage, Story within a Story, Storytelling, Tea, The Hobbit - Freeform, This Time I Have No Idea, Thorin In Love, Time Travel, into the storm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:59:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9653069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meanddoves/pseuds/meanddoves
Summary: Absentmindedly, I watched a man approaching the bus stop, his steps steady, not too hurried. I didn’t realise that I was probably staring at him until he halted by my side and I glanced at his face curiously, looking at his beard, lips, then up his cheeks and into his light blue eyes that were looking at me as well.The man was looking at me, his face blank, just looking back into my eyes.***“Will you tell me another story?” I couldn’t help myself anymore; I leaned to Richard and asked quietly.“Yes,” he responded simply and that was enough to make my cheeks colour brightly.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is what I've done instead of sleeping, so I hope you'll enjoy it.  
> I wanted to make it some sort of "soulmate/time travelling" AU, but it didn't turn out that way, I guess... I really like Richard's voice and the idea of him being some sort of socially awkward storyteller kept floating in my mind for quite a time already, so, I hope I didn't mess it up too much.

I was standing at the bus stop. Just like every afternoon. Clutching my bag and drinking tea I bought on my way to the bus stop to shorten my waiting. The sky was gray, covered with heavy dark clouds. It was going to rain, but that was nothing extraordinary as it was autumn and rain became such a routine event that no one ever paid any attention to it, people just opened their umbrellas and carried on as if nothing happened. I looked up at the sky, checking whether I needed to take my umbrella out of the bag or not just yet and then looked around, just to see a few people standing at the bus stop as well, all waiting for the same bus as me, their faces familiar as we took the same route.

 Absentmindedly, I watched a man approaching the bus stop, his steps steady, not too hurried. I didn’t realise that I was probably staring at him until he halted by my side and I glanced at his face curiously, looking at his beard, lips, then up his cheeks and into his light blue eyes that were looking at me as well.

The man was looking at me, his face blank, just looking back into my eyes.

A burning wave filled my insides and my whole face turned red. I moved my look to the ground quickly, hearing nothing but my own blood thumbing in my ears loudly, so loudly I was afraid that the man could hear it. Not daring to look anywhere else, I waited for the bus with my eyes glued to one of the puddles on the pavement.

I sat down and watched as the others got into the bus as well, taking a seat just like me or grabbing a pole to prevent falling.

“Is this seat free?” a deep voice interrupted my thoughts; I looked up and saw the man I was staring at a few minutes ago.

“Of course,” I managed a small smile that, hopefully, didn’t look too forced, and placed my bag onto my lap, suppressing an irritated sigh and doing my best not to blush so hard again. Clearly this man enjoyed making me feeling awkward and uncomfortable. The man sat down, squirmed a little to adjust the coat he was wearing and that was it. Didn’t say a word, didn’t look at me and just stared blankly in front of him. I was tensed the whole journey, not daring to move too much, looking only out of the window and silently awaiting some attempt to start a conversation but got nothing.

The man got off at the same stop as me. I Paced towards my apartment quickly, leaving him behind. Only when I was at the porch, fishing for my keys in the bag, I glanced swiftly at the man one more time. He, just like me, was taking out his keys and unlocking his apartment, just three houses from my place.

He was strange.

* * *

 

My eyes were moving quickly on the pages of a book I was holding, completely engrossed in the story I was reading at least seventh time, not paying attention to my surroundings, the unusual thing that happened yesterday long forgotten. With the corner of my eye I saw the unknown man approaching me again and remembered what happened, but decided not to let my confusion and nervousness show. Again, he stopped by my side and stood still. After a while I dared to look at him, only to see him looking at my book, his eyes moving as if he was reading. Yes, he was definitely reading. A small blush settled on my cheeks as I realised that he was reading my Alice in Wonderland without making any kind of comment about me being childish. With a tiny smile I opened the book a little wider and moved it to his side a bit more so he could see better, and continued with reading.

He sat next to me and we kept reading.

“Wait a second, please,” he said quietly, almost inaudibly when I was about to turn the page. I obeyed and watched him read the last lines in a hurry, then gave me a quick glance and a nod.

“Thank you,” he murmured and moved to the next page. I did the same, but my mind started to wander...

Yesterday I saw the man just as a weird guy with lacking sense of personal space, or that was at least what I kept repeating to myself. Yes, he did bewilder me a great deal, but I could not unsee his neat manners, walk and look. And today... he was different, yet the same. I didn’t know what to think of him now. He was a mystery.

Together, we got off and walked more or less side by side, though there was some space between us. It was supposed to feel uncomfortable – walking on a pavement with a complete stranger by my side and not talking at all, but it was somehow calming. Without any goodbye, the man turned and stepped up to his door. I should have kept on going, but stopped instead and watched him unlock the door, not caring that it had to look creepy.

“You can finish the book at home, if – if you want to...” I said quicker than I thought, realising that I was actually speaking only when I was in the middle of the sentence and stuttered a bit, shocked at my own sudden rush of courage. Swiftly enough, I pulled the book from my bag and stretched my arm towards the unknown. He turned around, looking at me closely, then stepped to me and took the book.

“Thank you,” the man responded politely and without any more words, closed the door behind him, although I could see him opening the book where the bookmark was through a narrow gap in the closing door. With a small chuckle and a mind full of speculations about this man I continued my short walk home.

* * *

 

The man gave the book back the following day. Again, with a “thank you” he placed the book onto my lap softly, when I was taking the bus home.

“Did you like it?” I couldn’t resist asking, the urge to know at least something about the man growing stronger and stronger with each day.

“Yes,” he responded plainly.

I didn’t try to start a conversation anymore.

* * *

 

It went like this for the rest of the week. Each afternoon he stood next to me and sat next to me in the bus, not saying a word, sometimes, when I brought a book to shorten my waiting, he leaned closer to read with me. It seemed like he didn’t care that he didn’t know the context.

With each afternoon I grew more and more comfortable with him, still not daring to start up a chat, but the idea I had before, about him being a weirdo, was completely gone by now, replaced by another one. To me, he was like a stray dog of some sort – not letting anyone in, not trusting, not speaking, independent, having a mind of his own and the fact that he sat by my side every day made me feel somehow special.

* * *

 

A knock on my door interrupted abruptly my concentration on one of my illustrations and made me jostle. I wasn’t expecting anyone; I never am, so this caught me completely off guard. It made me even more baffled when I opened the door and a gentle evening breeze brought a strangely familiar fragrance to my nose. Stepping out, I saw the unknown man standing several steps from me, looking intently at me and awaiting my reaction.

“Good evening...?” I smiled slightly, still a bit shocked, but genuinely happy that it was just _this_ man that rang my doorbell. Not that there were any other men to ring my doorbell, or anyone at all...

“You lent me Alice back then,” the man started, his voice calm as ever. Only then I saw a small book? notebook? booklet? in his hand.

“I would like to repay that favour, if you let me,” he explained shortly, allowing me to think it through a little and when I stepped closer, he stretched his arm towards me, letting me take the book from his hand. It was no booklet or a notebook. It was a thin book covered in leather, but with no name of the tale that was inside, nor the name of the author who wrote it.

“What is it about?” I frowned in confusion as I opened it on the first page to find out the name, but with no success. There was no summary, no thanks, no nothing.

“It is a story,” the unknown responded, not helping at all.

“Who wrote it then?” I tried to stay persistent, but again, with no success.

“A man,” his second answer was just as useless as the first one.

“Oh, well, I’ll give it a try,” I chuckled at the absurdity of the whole conversation and called it a thing. Still better than my poor attempts to start something in the bus.

“Goodnight,” the man looked me in the eyes once more and I watched him walk back home.

Only after I saw the man closing his door behind him, I rushed inside, up to my bedroom and curled under the warm blankets, the paint on my palette from my previous work forgotten. At first I flipped through the whole book, looking for any kind of... well, of anything, but there was nothing but the story, divided into twelve not really that long chapters. With a small smile I wasn’t quite aware of I flipped back to the first page and let the story take me away.

After some time, but still quickly, too quickly my eyes started to get tired from the whole week’s work and the letters got blurry. Not having the strength to put the book on the bedside table, I placed it onto the pillow and flopped beside it in exhaustion. The smell of the leather cover lulled me to unconsciousness.

* * *

 

I finished the book by Saturday evening.

Well.

Finished.

I finished only half of the book as there were no more pages. At first I thought that the man had ripped them off, but the book didn’t look damaged and the man didn’t look like he would do such a thing. The story even halted in mid sentence. I didn’t know what to do, how to react, what to expect next... nothing. I was so confused that I seriously considered the idea to knock on the man’s door and demand an explanation. But then again, what would he say? The book was unfinished; there was nothing to do about it. Still, I decided to ask about it, but wait till Monday.

* * *

 

I nodded slightly as the man halted by my side on Monday. He nodded in response, but didn’t ask whether I liked the book or not. He didn’t bring up that subject or any subject at all, so I stayed quiet. And he stayed quiet as usual. I wanted to speak up during the ride and even inhaled to begin, but didn’t do it. I didn’t know why. Only when we were alone on our street, walking side by side, I mustered enough bravery.

“I’ve read the book you lent me,” I began, not really knowing how to continue, so I took the book out of my bag and gave it back. The man accepted the book and looked at me, but continued his way silently.

“It is not finished.”

“I know.”

A bold thought “why did you gave it to me then” flashed through my mind, but the man’s voice stopped me from saying anything stupid.

“Do you want to know the end?”

Of course I wanted to know the end.

My eyes widened in excitement and I hurried to response, “yes, very much. I really liked the story, but it ended so unexpectedly...”

“Come to my place at nine then.” The man offered and stopped to take out his keys.

That was a bit quick. I blinked a few times; my eyebrows raised high, not really knowing what to say. The man didn’t even tell me his name, we barely spoke and I honestly knew absolutely _nothing_ about him. Not even mentioning that nine in the evening was a bit too late to pay anyone a visit.

“Ehm, isn’t it a bit late?” I tried to give him at least a small hint to change the time, shuffling my feet awkwardly as I felt his gaze on my face.

“No,” the man said plainly, “it is the right time.”

“I see,” I trailed off, trying hard to decide what to do.

“Will you come?”

It is now or never.

“Yes.”

* * *

 

I halted in front of his house three minutes earlier, smoothed my blouse and put a misbehaving lock of hair behind my ear. I could still change my mind. I had three minutes for it.

Only two now.

I inhaled deeply and rang the doorbell. The man opened the door after a short while and let me in. Silently, I took off my sneakers and followed him to the living room, looking all around me. The house, even though I was there only several minutes seemed already very comfortable, the old fashioned furniture and a small fire cracking in the fireplace that was making tall shadows on the walls covered with bookshelves and old maps making me want to just stay right there and then and inhale the calm atmosphere.

“Can I make you some tea? Or hot chocolate?” the man behind me interrupted my daydreaming and took a few steps towards his small kitchen, awaiting my answer.

“Tea would be nice, thank you.” I responded quietly, not daring to speak up because if I had, I was almost sure this whole house, this man, everything, would just disappear and I would wake up.

I obeyed when the unknown brought two cups and after placing those onto the table gestured me to sit on the couch. He sat on an armchair opposite and looked as I sipped the warm liquid. I knew I should have got used to this kind of silence by now, but now it seemed truly unnecessary, so I squirmed a bit on my seat and cleared my throat.

“I’m afraid I don’t know your name,” I said at last and exhaled in relief that it was finally behind me.

“It’s Richard,” the man spoke, his look not changing a tiny bit.

“I’m Y/N,” I leaned over the table and offered him my hand for a handshake, “it is pleasure to meet... to – to... it’s a pleasure.”

“A pleasure indeed,” the tips of Richard’s lips curled upwards as I stuttered and accepted my hand with a gentle grip.

“So, ehm... how does the story end then?” I leaned back against the couch, feeling more at ease now, sipping from my cup now and then, eyeing Richard curiously.

“No, it can’t be like this,” Richard tutted with a small frown and stood up. With a growing feeling that something was surely wrong I watched him turn off the lights and sit back on his previous place. The soft gleam from the fire danced on his face, making it impossible to read his expressions.

“Calm down,” he said softly when he noticed my great discomfort.

“Mhm,” I managed to let out a small high pitched yelp and finished my drink.

“If you wish to, you can close your eyes or lay down. If you want me to stop, do so,” he instructed carefully and waited for my nod, only then leaned against the armchair himself.

_“There, in a land far from here, was a king – you’ve read about him. His kingdom was wealthy and full of strength, luring every merchant, soldier, man, woman or a child with its’ great treasure. It was the centre of trade, filled with luxurious clothes, exotic fruits, swords and weapons beyond imagination and toys and furniture the carpenters were proud of. It was a paradise. But, just like all the good things, this, too, faded too quickly._

_There came a day when a great dragon flew from far away, the richness of the kingdom attracting it. The once mighty kingdom died in fire, and the serpent took hold of the treasure. The proud people of this land were forced to leave their homes and with the lead of their king searched for a new home. Even though they found a shelter again and grew in strength once again, the king was longing for his lost kingdom for years and years._

_A company of twelve of his most loyal supporters and friends and him set off to reclaim their lost home. They travelled through lands of unknown, through forests filled with darkness and shadows and were forced to fight their enemies more than once. The quest was dangerous, with only a slight chance of success.”_

Richard’s deep quiet voice filled the entire room; caressing my ears and making me almost melt against the couch.  Even though I had read that part, this felt entirely different, almost too good. I opened my eyes slightly to find out why he had stopped, but closed them again quickly when he continued.

_“Then, a day came when they met a girl. Alone in a forest, unarmed and completely lost, her cheeks damp from long hours of crying. The king sheltered her, letting others give her warm clothes and food. He didn’t want the girl to continue with them, he didn’t want her to risk life for something she wasn’t part of, he couldn’t see her wounded, but the girl was persistent. Her stubbornness made the king upset many times, each time being angry at himself for being such a fool to let her be with them... be with him. He didn’t want the girl to walk by his side, to eat by his side, and yet, he always found himself in her company._

_Quickly, way too quickly he started to see every one of her smiles, hear her words and laughter, notice the way she blushed._

_He was lost._

_And she was lost as well, but the king didn’t know it._

_Neither of them dared to tell the other._

_A mere smell of her hair was enough for the king and only the slightest touch of his hand made the girl feel butterflies inside her...”_

“What happened next?” I snapped back from the dream-like state and looked at Richard curiously.

“The dragon,” he looked intently at me and took a sip of his tea.

_“Together they entered the lost kingdom and there, covered in golden coins and gems as bright as the moonlight itself, slept the dragon. The king wanted to kill the beast in sleep, but unsuccessfully. The dragon woke, filling everything with flames so hot they melted the gold. The king and his companions fought for long, trying to outsmart the dragon, but nothing could kill the beast. After a long and tiring battle, the king managed to kill it at last, finding a soft spot where the scales were missing and ended the reign of the serpent._

_The flames, however, were too destructive and the king’s scorches too big to heal. The girl ran to him, placing his head in her lap and trying to calm him. But he was calm. The king was with the girl and that was enough for him. For both of them.”_

This was not the ending I was expecting.

“What happened to the girl?” I frowned in confusion and stretched out a bit.

“The story ends there,” Richard said in a low voice and placed the empty cup onto the table.

“Oh, well, thank you then,” I smiled and looked at the clock. It was half past ten already. Swiftly, I stood up, trying to fight the sweet tiredness that embraced my body for at least a little while longer, so I could make it to my bedroom, “I should go, it’s late already. Sorry for keeping you up this long and thank you for the tea and the – the story.”

“Goodnight,” Richard opened the door for me and I slipped out into the chilly night, not really realising cold drops of rain landing in my hair.

* * *

 

“Hello,” I smiled when Richard stopped next to me as usual.

“Hello,” he responded quietly, he seemed almost afraid that other people could hear him.

We got in and sat down. As usual. Not a single word, but today I felt more at ease than ever.

“Slept well?” Richard asked while walking down the street to his house.

“Yes, very well to be honest,” it was true. I couldn’t remember when the last time I had such a peaceful sleep was. Even though I would never admit it, I was almost sure it had to do something with that deep voice and soft words I listened to before going to bed.

* * *

The rain that started on Monday evening seemed too restless to stop. It was raining for the whole week with only small pauses and everyone was just tired of that kind of weather. The excuse that it was autumn wasn’t good enough anymore.

“Gosh, I hate this weather,” I muttered and gritted my teeth as I tried my best to open my umbrella. While I was waiting for the bus, it was one of the bright moments of the day when the rain stopped, but as soon as I got off the bus with Richard, it proceeded.

“Shh,” Richard’s hand took the stuck umbrella from my hands and put it back into my bag. Then the rain stopped. No. It stopped only above my head. I looked up and saw Richard’s umbrella covering me as well.

“Thank you,” I murmured and walked with him closer to me than usual. He accompanied me home and halted on my porch, waiting for me to unlock the door.

“Do you want to visit me?” he asked after I opened the door and was in the doorway.

“But it’s my turn now,” I protested, but he shook his head.

“At nine,” he stated shortly and turned to leave.

* * *

 

I shook my head at Richard’s stubbornness as I halted in front of his door and rang the doorbell. Yes, it was really nice to be in his house, I enjoyed it a lot, but, come on; I didn’t want to look like an idiot who was not able to invite someone for a dinner or just a visit in general. My thoughts were stopped as he opened the door.

“Good evening,” I smiled sheepishly and walked inside, brushing against his torso slightly as I passed him.

“Good to see you,” he said quietly and led me to the living room, where two cups of tea were already waiting.

“So, another bed time story tonight?” I chuckled, not really expecting the same thing as yesterday.

“Yes,” Richard responded with an almost invisible smile, but his tone was serious.

Oh.

“Really?” my smirk faded in a second, leaving me completely aback, “I mean, I don’t mind it, it’s just that the last time, not that I didn’t enjoy it, it – it was just a bit un-unusual and... well, if you want to, it’s-”

“You liked it the last time,” Richard stopped my babbling and my cheeks flushed heavily.

“Yes...” I admitted, not looking at him and sipped my tea instead.

“It’s just that I know nothing but your name,” I muttered quietly, trying not to sound too desperate, still not meeting his gaze.

“That’s true,” he agreed seriously, “and yet, you don’t mind it when I walk by your side, you don’t have any questions during the rides.”

He was right.

“What is the story going to be about?” I surrendered and relaxed, watching him adding a piece of wood into the fireplace and turning off the lights again.

“The rain,” Richard’s gaze softened to almost gentle one, his face relaxed as he sat back to his armchair.

_“Just like it started this week, droplets of rain covered the pavement at first. No one paid any attention to it; it was just a rain, after all. But, unlike every other rain, this one kept pouring and pouring and pouring... It was raining for many days and people got worried. Water filled the cellars at first, then it started to pour into the streets, making big puddles at first, then bigger ones... Soon the streets were filled with water and everyone was scared. The sky was covered in heavy black clouds and one day, the sky broke open and a roaring thunder drowned out every single sound, accompanied by flash after flash cutting through the sky. People started panicking. There was no way to escape. Many tried to leave, to find a safe place to wait for the storm to end, but caused traffic jams instead, others tried to barricade themselves in their homes, and there were some that unleashed hell when they broke the first shop window to take things that didn’t belong to them. Everyone wanted to survive, but the water was too high and the lightning too unpredictable.”_

My eyelids became too heavy while listening to Richard’s voice and soft tapping of raindrops on the windows from the outside, but I didn’t have the heart to stop him. It was too comfortable.

_“There was a man. He, just like everyone else, tried to get away to safety, but with no success. While stuck in one of the jams, trying to stay calm and not to listen to shouts for help, or to the sirens of fire-fighters and policemen trying to help he saw the water level rising. Rising too quickly to drive away. He knew he couldn’t stay in his car, but stepping out meant the stream could take him... The water was rising and he had to decide. Swiftly, he rolled down the window and through the gap slipped from his car. He was right, the stream was too strong to resist and one small slip made the man fall into the water, which started to take him away. He tried to stay above the surface and grab something, anything, but couldn’t. Water got into his lungs and eyes; he coughed and groped blindly for something, anything to hold on to._

_Suddenly, a hand grabbed his and he opened his eyes. A girl was looking at him, pulling his body through a window. The man pulled himself closer, the girl helped him get into a house and closed the window hastily when he fell inside, collapsing to the ground in exhaustion. The girl kneeled down to him, but when he opened his eyes again, her face relaxed. Not knowing who his saviour was, the man helped the girl take some food upstairs to the second floor and then to the attic. Together, they assembled everything that was necessary and waited. For what, they didn’t know._

_The man didn’t know the girl, and the girl didn’t know the man._

_And yet, they worked together and helped each other. Only after they finally settled in the attic, the man dared to look at the girl properly. Not a girl anymore, and not a woman yet, - but I will still call her a girl - this young lady accepted a complete stranger with no doubts. The man could be bad. He could do anything to the girl and she would be helpless. He didn’t. He wasn’t that kind of a man._

_From time to time, the man went downstairs to check the level of the water. Still rising, not a single sign of stopping._

_Slowly, the sky darkened even more and the girl lighted some candles. They ate in complete silence, the sound of heavy drops hitting the roof interrupting the stillness. After they finished, the man sat down away from the dim light, huddled in the blanket the girl gave him. He thought that the girl would blow off the candles and retire to sleep as well and jerked a bit in surprise when he heard her question - will it stop? The man didn’t know. He wished he knew though. Sighing heavily, he said the truth. He was expecting the girl to cry, but all she did was that she stood up, walked to him and pulled him by his shirt to move. The man obeyed, letting the girl pull him to the candles and when she sat down he did the same. Slowly, the girl lied down and the man followed her actions. Not knowing the girl’s reaction, he placed his arm around her waist at first and when she didn’t protest pulled her close to him. They stayed the whole night like this – he girl taking comfort from the man, feeling protected and too good to be true, the man holding her for dear life, knowing that without her, he would live no more. Suddenly, something stronger than gratitude filled the man’s heart, but he couldn’t let that show. The girl didn’t know him, they did just what was natural, he wasn’t supposed to think about her. After checking that she was surely asleep, he placed a small kiss into her hair, he allowed himself to have at least a memory of her and then fell asleep as well._

_It became their routine – each day waiting for something to change and each night holding onto one another without any questions. The man was almost glad that the storm kept raging because it meant he could feel the girl’s heartbeat every night.”_

I couldn’t focus on Richard’s voice anymore. I wanted to tell him...

I felt myself falling into peaceful unconsciousness.

_“Days passed slowly, the water was rising and the man and the girl were forced to climb onto the rooftop. The girl crouched, placing a blanket around her shoulders to keep herself from getting too wet. The man watched her. This was it. He looked around and saw nothing but rooftops of houses and pieces of furniture and a limp body flowing on the surface of the grey stream. Was this really how it would all end? He didn’t know and didn’t care anymore._

_The man approached the girl, who was still trying to get warm, lifted her up and embraced her._

_The rain stopped._

_Soon afterwards, a rescue vessel appeared, the rescue workers waving at the two of them. The girl pulled away immediately; as if nothing happened, and ran to the edge of the roof where two other men were already standing, helping her get abroad. She didn’t turn around to look at him anymore. Reluctantly, the man followed her.  He always did.”_

“Y/N?” from far away I heard a whisper. Trying to response, I found myself being too weak to do anything. Even though I didn’t have the strength to move at all, my body felt weightless all of a sudden, it was really strange. An unusual warm sensation sealed me softly and I felt something warm on my cheek.

* * *

 

“Y/N.”

I didn’t want to open my eyes.

“Y/N.”

The voice was so familiar and beautiful and all I wanted was to listen to it as long as possible.

“Y/N.”

Richard.

It was his voice. Of course it was his voice, who else could have such a rumbling, deep, nice...

I would never have guessed that I would have a dream with Richard. But it wasn’t unpleasant at all, just the opposite.

“Y/N.”

“Richard...?” I murmured dreamily.

Then a hand touched my shoulder. This was too real to be a dream. I snapped my eyes open, regretting it immediately as the first thing I saw was Richard sitting beside me. Yes, staying asleep would have been so much better. I stared at him in shock, my face turning bright red in seconds when I recalled what happened the night before.

“I didn’t mean to-” I stuttered awkwardly, pulling the blanket up to my neck in embarrassment.

“I know you didn’t,” he said calmly, not looking angry or frustrated. He was just calm. Calm and comforting? peaceful? I didn’t know how to call it, but his look made me ease my nervousness and somehow soothed me.

“You should go back home, you have work.” He stated shortly and stood up, the place where he held me previously feeling suddenly cold.

* * *

 

“I really didn’t want to drop off,” I started quietly when Richard took the seat next to me.

“Think no more of it,” he assured me and continued his silent staring into distance.

“I don’t know how the story ended,” I suddenly remembered that the last thing I could think of was the part when the man and the girl slept together in the attic.

“I know,” Richard gave me a short look but turned to the window again.

As soon as we got off the bus, Richard moved closer to me and told me the rest of the story. It wasn’t as nice as yesterday or the previous time, but I was really curious about the ending. Again, when he finished I was a bit disappointed. I didn’t say a word though, only thanked him for being so kind and telling it again.

Only after I came back home I realised that Richard put so much love and tenderness into those stories. I couldn’t withstand the urge to imagine myself in the position of the girl in the stories...

 I was the girl and Richard... Richard was the king from the first tale and the man from the second one.  

It made me confused because even though the tales were beautiful, they ended so abruptly, so drastically. Still, I couldn’t force myself to resist falling for the way Richard told the stories... the way he looked at me...

Richard said it very well - the girl was lost.

* * *

 

I didn’t want to admit it, but spending the weekend all alone was a terror. I was used to being alone, but now the whole house just seemed so... empty, cold. For many times I wanted to knock on Richard’s door, asking him to tell me one more story, to hear his voice, just to be in his presence. It should have been weird – he hardly spoke to me, and yet I couldn’t focus on anything else but the moments in the bus, at the bus stop... in his living room. Even the most common things and gestures were so intimate; there was nothing but me and Richard when we were together. I was restless.

* * *

 

“Will you tell me another story?” I couldn’t help myself anymore; I leaned to Richard and asked quietly.

“Yes,” he responded simply and that was enough to make my cheeks colour brightly.

I spent the rest of the journey home silent, trying to think of a story he could tell me, my lips curled in a soft smile.

“Come on Friday,” Richard stated as he stopped in his doorway. I nodded in agreement, already looking forward to that day.

* * *

 

Friday turned out to be hell.

I couldn’t remember when the last time I had such a hard time at work was. Exhausted, I managed to make it to the bus stop, glaring at everything around me, kicking the small stones off of the pavement. When Richard stood by my side, I didn’t say “hi”. A snappish thought “he never speaks to me, so why should I” crossed my mind. I didn’t even try to push it away.

“What happened?” he asked silently as he sat next to me.

I didn’t reply.

“What happened?” Richard asked again while accompanying me on the street.

“Nothing,” I said plainly.

Richard noticed my clenched fists, but didn’t say anything. He walked past his house, not even looking that direction. He stopped when I was in front of mine.

“Y/N, what happened?” he asked when I was about to open the door.

“Stop this...” I turned to him tiredly, not in mood for his (un)usual behaviour.

Instead of saying anything to defend himself, he turned and left.

What have I done?

* * *

 

Still considering going back home, I rang Richard’s doorbell at nine. I was an idiot, reacting like that to a man who just tried to help. I felt awful. Really awful.

After a while Richard opened the door.

“I am sorry,” I exhaled and bowed my head in shame.

“Come in,” he stepped aside, letting me in. We sat in the living room; I watched the fire while waiting for Richard to bring the cups of tea.

“I acted like a complete idiot back then, I was just so-”

“It’s alright,” Richard gave me the cup and seated himself into the armchair, “don’t think about it anymore, we have more important things to do.”

“No, it’s not alright!” I snapped desperately. He couldn’t just forgive me for treating him like trash.

No, that was just too nice, too gentle, too caring, no one can be like that...

“Stop this,” he said ever so calmly.

...except maybe...

“I understand.”

...Richard.

I sighed in defeat, but gave him a small, still a bit sad smile as I watched him do the usual routine of turning the lights off.

“Can I?”

I nodded and closed my eyes.

_“There lived a man. He lived alone in a great house, far away from everyone, with no family, nor friends. And yet, there was always someone with him. The man had a companion, and a very special one. He had his demon. The demon was all the man ever had, the demon was his past and present and kept him company._

_Together they did bad things._

_The man knew those things were very bad when he glanced at his hands covered in blood and saw people around him – people with no life inside, but his demon was always so happy when the man did things like that._

_The man kept doing them._

_During the days, he went to work, his demon hid behind his back the whole time, no one knew about it. Hardly anyone knew the man either, but he didn’t mind. The thought that his demon was with him all the time made him smile when he knew he was alone and the assurance that the man could make his demon happy made him so proud, he didn’t see the people’s curious looks. He thought that he had found his way and that everything – his life, his work, his demon, were alright, were good enough. He wasn’t lacking anything._

_Until he met a girl._

_One day, he heard a knock on his door and a girl came in, a pile of paperwork in her arms. She put it all onto his desk and offered him her hand for a handshake. Reluctantly, he accepted it. Soon it turned out that the girl was supposed to be his new co-worker. But he didn’t need any co-workers._

_He didn’t want any._

_The demon on his back squirmed uncomfortably as the man looked at the girl, his eyes narrow and piercing, trying to read her._

_Luckily, the man and the girl didn’t meet too often. Sometimes, the girl entered his office and brought some documents for signing, other times the man was forced to go to her office._

_The man started to like the girl._

_His demon didn’t._

_The man enjoyed that the girl, unlike most people, wasn’t so distant, asked questions and was cheerful around him._

_The demon thought the girl was nosy and flirty.”_

I listened with great interest, but my concentration wasn’t entirely on the story.

I watched every little movement Richard’s lips made.

_“The girl noticed the man’s look on her back, his almost invisible blush and the way his voice broke when he talked to her. She liked him a great deal as well._

_Slowly, very slowly, they started getting closer. Their meetings outside the work became longer and more regular, the man didn’t look away every time the girl found him looking at her, he didn’t shy away anymore._

_One time, the man took the girl’s hand into his._

_It felt way better than anything he had felt before, better than he dared to imagine, better..._

_He held her hand the whole evening, they were walking together until it was dark, the man didn’t want to let go._

_The other time, the girl kissed him._

_The man was in heaven._

_While the man was with the girl, his demon was left alone. The demon got jealous. He demanded attention, but the man saw nothing but the girl. He was happy and the demon was furious._

_Only after the man arrived each night back home, he was brought back down to reality by his demon. The man didn’t know what to do, he cared for the girl, but the demon was his life. He didn’t want to see dead people anymore, but couldn’t send his most precious companion away. Even if he wanted, the demon would not leave._

_Then the demon wanted the girl, wanted to see her body, her blood, her eyes looking blankly into distance. The man didn’t want to give his girl away, but the demon was persistent.”_

Richard cleared his throat and glanced at me to check whether I was still listening.

I was, of course I was.

With a tiny smile Richard looked away when our eyes met and continued.

_“The man couldn’t hold it any longer._

_Suddenly, so suddenly that the man himself was shocked, he told the girl the truth. About him, about his work, his art, his demon, his life... He told her everything._

_The girl was scared. He knew she loved him, but he broke her. The man didn’t expect the girl to stay with him any longer, and yet, when the girl left, wiping tears from her eyes, he felt broken as well. Even though the man saved the girl, saved her from him, from his feelings, from everything, the demon won._

_Not caring about anything anymore, the man decided to make his demon happy one more time. The last time._

_He let the demon see blood once again, feel a limp body under the demon’s touch._

_Several days later, the girl read an article in newspaper about an abrupt end of a series of murders.”_

“Why are you doing this?” I couldn’t hold it any longer and had to ask. All of the unspoken questions I kept holding for so long wanted to get out, but only one managed it.

“Doing what?” Richard looked at me, his face not a tiny bit bewildered or curious, it seemed to me he knew exactly what I was talking about.

“All of this. You tell me stories, beautiful ones, so tender and full of...” I trailed off, suddenly insecure, “... and then you end them so brutally, it’s... it’s strange, Richard. Why are you doing it?”

“You already know,” Richard took the empty cups to the kitchen, “you were thinking about it before.”

“You are _the_ _girl_ ,” he finished, standing in the middle of the living room a bit awkwardly.

The tiny twinkles in his eyes while he was telling me the tale were gone; his focus was intently on me.

He was expecting my reaction.

I didn’t say anything. Words were so unnecessary right now.

I stood up, stepped towards him, not daring to cross the invisible barrier between us.

“Y/N.”

My fingers brushed against his. Our bodies touched. Richard leaned down to me and waited.

I closed the distance between us.

Richard kissed me and I kissed him back. I melted against his touch, he was the only one I could hold onto, he was my universe, the only truth I believed in.

Richard’s hands tracing down my shoulders so gently I wasn’t sure it was real. His beard tickling my face. His breath warming my skin and whispering my name again and again and again. I placed my hand onto his chest, feeling his heart – he was truly there with me. I felt his finger brushing a lock of my hair from my closed eyes and I knew he was watching me. While leaning against Richard’s torso, his arms wrapped around my back, lining small patterns and words.

Silently, he led me upstairs and to his bedroom. I watched him take off his flannel shirt, and obeyed when he gestured me to lie on the bed. Richard lied next to me and as soon as he did so, I kissed him once again. He pulled me closer, scooping me in his arms and returned the kiss ever so softly.

“Y/N...” I heard Richard’s quiet murmur as I placed my head onto his chest, closing my eyes at last.

* * *

 

It was still night when I woke up.

Not wanting to wake Richard up as well, I stayed where I was – in his embrace, as I’ve soon realised. My back was pressing against his chest; he was holding me firmly and breathing evenly onto my neck, his forehead gently pressing against the back of my head.

“You are not sleeping.”

“You aren’t either,” I responded quietly, “why?”

“I was thinking,” Richard whispered and traced my cheek with his finger softly.

“About what?”

“I was waiting so long for you to change the ending.”

“And did I?” Richard pulled me closer to him when I turned around and placed a small kiss onto his neck.

“Yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading and feel free to leave a comment and a kudo.  
> (I tried.)


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